


hold the weight of the world on my back

by endofadream



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Praise Kink, but not really, slight D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 14:12:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1691168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endofadream/pseuds/endofadream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt discovers that Blaine likes to be praised in bed, and he's more than happy to help with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold the weight of the world on my back

Kurt discovers it, surprisingly, nearly six months into them having sex. It’s by accident, after they’ve both already come and are breathing heavily, Kurt’s heart racing and his blood rushing in his ears. Underneath him Blaine’s eyes are closed, lips parted and shining in the late-afternoon sunlight. The sheets are twisted around his body, evidence of where he’d grabbed and squirmed and writhed. Kurt’s cooling skin flushes again at the thought.

They have the house to themselves for the night, Blaine’s parents gone to a wedding a city over. It’s the first time in weeks that they’d got to have proper sex, but also the first time ever that they’d really slowed things down, took the time to memorize, to learn what might have been overlooked before.

Blaine’s come still gleams wetly on his belly, but the edges of the streaks and where tiny droplets had splattered are already drying over. They should get cleaned up, get started on the dinner they’d planned to make together, but mind-blowing sex has a way of changing your mind, Kurt’s come to discover. He’s bone-deep exhausted, sated in the way that makes his body feel like lead in the best possible way, limbs weighted down like with bags of sand.

Kurt wets his lips, ducks down and trails them over the smooth line of Blaine’s jaw, up over his cheek. He can feel the twitch of skin and muscle, feels the stretch and bulge as Blaine smiles, making a little happy sound that’s released with a sigh.

“We should get cleaned up,” Kurt murmurs, finally letting his lips brush over Blaine’s. Blaine meets him, chin tipping up and fingers lazily threading through Kurt’s hair, and they kiss unhurriedly, taking time to do what their frantic fucking couldn’t allow them to do before.

“We should,” Blaine agrees, but his voice is drawled, slow and thick like molasses, and when they part he’s smiling dopily, eyes slitted. Kurt breathes out a laugh.

“I guess I’ll have to make the first move.”

“Mm, looks like it.”

Kurt nips playfully at Blaine’s lower lip, sits back on his haunches and takes the base of the condom securely in his fingers. It’s the first time they’ve actually waited to pull out, and it’ll hurt with the endorphins worn off and the stretched soreness already sinking in, so Kurt goes slowly, pets Blaine’s thigh and murmurs, “Yeah, that’s it. Relax for me, baby, just like that…good.”

He slips free, but not before he notices a visible shiver rippling its way down Blaine’s body, how Blaine seems to all but sink into the sheets with a liquid-loose relaxation that Kurt’s never seen before. And it’s impossible to miss the way Blaine’s spent cock twitches against his thigh, the way his plush lips shape up in surprise before going slack again as he sighs, closes his eyes.

Kurt thinks about it as he ties off the condom, after Blaine’s already gotten up and went into the bathroom in search of a washcloth to clean them both off with before they get dressed again. Kurt wads up the condom in a tissue, disposes of it in the trashcan by Blaine’s desk, still thinking.

The thing that Kurt’s always noticed about Blaine, even before they started dating, is that he’s a people pleaser. The happier he makes everyone around him—friends, strangers, teachers, adults—the happier he is. Kurt’s never really thought much about it, has always just accepted it as a facet of Blaine’s personality that didn’t need analyzing.

Now, though…Kurt had gotten a glimpse of Blaine’s face when he’d been soothing him, had seen the momentary flash of surprise that had quickly melted into one of bliss, and he’s beginning to think that there’s something Blaine isn’t telling him, or possibly something that Blaine isn’t even aware of at all.

But Kurt doesn’t know how to phrase it, doesn’t even know what to _call_ it. He doesn’t want to just open up a conversation with a glib, “So do you like to be complimented in bed?” because he feels that this runs deeper than that, that with Blaine and his tentative relationship with his parents this is something that’s going to require careful footing and tactful phrasing.

He doesn’t have time to research anything on his phone, so when Blaine walks back into the room, face damp from water and sweatpants hung low on his hips, Kurt asks, without much thinking, “Do you like it when I call you good?”

Blaine stops in his tracks and blinks, looking at Kurt with a calculating, almost owlishly surprised expression. The damp washcloth in his hand drips, once, onto the floor, and suddenly Kurt is hyperaware of his nakedness. In a stiff-limbed rush he reaches for his underwear, pulls them up. His cheeks flush, and he has to fight to keep from looking away.

Finally, Blaine speaks, and it’s slow. “What do you mean?”

It sounds confused, but there’s also an undertone that sounds a little scared. It’s not accusing, or anything. It just is.

Kurt bites his lip, looks down and back up as the cogs of his head turn. He seeks desperately for the correct phrasing, for a way to jump into this conversation without royally screwing it up. He’s not good with sex—he’s getting better, but he still gets embarrassed a lot, especially when it comes to talking instead of doing. “I mean…back there, earlier. When I was, um, pulling out? I praised you and said you were good, and you…I’ve never seen you look like that before.” At Blaine’s furrowed brows Kurt adds, “So relaxed. Usually you’re always worried about something, but then it was like you weren’t thinking about anything. It was like you were just there.”

In the dying light of the room it’s difficult to catch the flush spreading out in a bloom over Blaine’s cheeks, but not quite impossible. He shifts on his feet, looks down and to the side. Like this he looks so much younger, all of his bravado melted away, stripped from his skin like his clothing still strewn over the floor.

Kurt loves that he’s the only one who ever gets to see Blaine this unguarded. It takes a lot of trust, something he knows firsthand from his own struggles, and he loves that Blaine does trust him enough with this raw-skinned version of himself, delicate and fragile like a baby bird.

“I do.” Blaine’s voice is soft; it sounds a little cared, a little hoarse. “I’ve never put a name to it before, but…I guess, yeah. I like being praised. I like being complimented and told that I’m good, or that I’m making someone happy. I think…” He pauses, takes a breath that’s shaky. “I’ve always guessed it had something to do with never being able to please my dad. Or whatever. I’m not really sure, I just know that I like when I’m being told I’m doing something right.” He looks up through curtains of lashes at this, brows drawn together slightly and sentence trailing off at the end. He doesn’t move, though, from where he’s standing, almost as if he’d afraid to get closer. So Kurt’s the one who gets up, goes to him.

Blaine folds into the hug Kurt offers, boneless and willing, drops the cloth to the floor and mumbles against Kurt’s neck, “Thanks for not, like, thinking I’m weird or anything.”

Kurt laughs, wraps his arms tighter around Blaine’s body and holds him. “As if you ever could be.”

——

When Kurt goes home the next morning before Blaine’s parents arrive he locks his door and sits at his computer, looking around furtively before typing Google into the address bar.

He isn’t sure what to look for, hesitates slightly as he rethinks back to the previous evening. Is it complimenting, or praising? Or is it both? Is there a specific name he should know about?

After deliberating for ten minutes, fingers hovering above the keys, Kurt finally goes for it.

——

The next time it happens they’re at Kurt’s house, Burt and Carole out on a date and Finn out with the guys. Blaine had opted to skip, to much badgering until he’d finally said, slipping his hand into Kurt’s at the end of glee rehearsal, “Kurt has the house to himself and he invited me over.” Everyone had shut up after that, though Puck had waggled his eyebrows suggestively until Kurt’s glare became too much.

Kurt’s heart is pounding rabbit-fast in a way that it hasn’t since their first time, and he’s clumsy, fingers slipping on the buttons of his shirt as Blaine kisses him, hard and hot and deep, a hand on the back of Kurt’s neck as Kurt leads them into the bedroom.

They both manage to get shirtless by the time they fall in a heap onto the bed, Kurt laughing breathlessly against Blaine’s mouth as Blaine moans, licks along Kurt’s teeth and slides his hands down Kurt’s bare back to the denim-covered swell of his ass.

Kurt moves down Blaine’s neck, wriggles his hips in Blaine’s lap, feeling the hard, hot line of his cock against his own. Blaine’s moan is breathed out, his hands gripping tighter to Kurt’s ass, and Kurt huffs out an amused laugh, pulls back and stares down.

Blaine is looking up at him, wide-eyed and unabashed. His lips are already a little swollen, darkening pink glossed with saliva, and Kurt waits only a second before he says, voice unsteady and unsure, “Look at you.” Says, lower, awed, “Look at how undone you are already for me. You want me so badly, don’t you?”

It’s weird, and the words coming out of his mouth sound scripted to Kurt’s ears, but Blaine soaks it in, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, his body going slightly loose again under Kurt’s as he nods, lets out a whimpering whine of a noise in affirmation. Kurt swallows hard before he rests his weight on one hand, trails his fingertips down the lines of Blaine’s face, then the heave of his chest. He traces over the jut of Blaine’s collarbone, the dip of the hollow of his throat, the sensitive skin of his nipples. “God, you’re so good. So beautiful. I love how responsive you always are, especially when I do this”—he leans down, licks up over Blaine’s nipple, and Blaine arches, letting out a low cry—“and this.” This time Kurt slides his hand down to where Blaine is straining in his jeans and isn’t disappointed at the keen that escapes Blaine’s mouth when Kurt wraps his fingers as best he can around him.

When they kiss this time it’s harder, dirtier, like an antithesis to the sweetness of the words Kurt’s saying. It’s amazing to see Blaine like this, unrestrained in an entirely new way, and it doesn’t take Kurt long to expertly flick open Blaine’s button and drag down his zipper.

He shoves his hand inside, wraps his fingers around Blaine’s dick, feels the throb of blood under his palm, the humid, damp heat of the rigid flesh. He strokes in what little pace he’s given, says, a little rougher as he nips at Blaine’s jaw, “You get so hard for me, and I love it. Love how you look when I’m jerking you off, when I’m fucking you.”

Kurt lets his teeth linger on his lip a little longer for emphasis, drags out _fucking_ in a way that has Blaine shivering and jerking in Kurt’s grip. Kurt smiles, presses their lips together, brief, before pulling back again.

“Do you want me to fuck you, B? Do you want me to take care of you, make you feel good like the good boy that you are?”

“Oh god, yes. _Please_.”

It comes out in a rush, breathy and almost transparent, but Blaine opens his eyes, stares at Kurt in a way that’s completely trusting, completely raw. It makes Kurt shiver and tremble with love. With power.

“You sound so good when you beg,” Kurt says thickly, his mouth suddenly dry. He sits back to undo his own jeans, relieve the pressure over his cock. Tipping his head down, he watches the slide of Blaine’s swollen cock through his fist, watches the clear bead of pre-come bubble up before he swipes it away with his thumb, twists it down the shaft. “You’re so beautiful, baby. Such a good boy for me.”

Kurt gets their jeans and underwear off quickly, moans out loud at the easy way Blaine spreads his legs, staring up at Kurt with that open look on his face. Once he lubes up his fingers Kurt nestles between them, draping Blaine’s leg over his shoulder with his clean hand.

Blaine’s always been better at opening up than Kurt, and right now he’s little more than putty sagging against the sheets. It’s only minutes before Kurt can slip in a second finger, and three isn’t far behind once he begins working them in and out, watching, rapt, the way Blaine’s body swallows them up eagerly, how easily he stretches and accepts Kurt’s fingers. And Kurt can’t resist telling Blaine this, says, “You take me so well, like you were made for it.”

Kurt can’t resist, ruts a little against Blaine’s thigh as he twists his fingers once more and slides them free, reaching for the condom and the lube. Blaine lifts up on his elbows long enough to watch, mouth slack and eyes flicking up to Kurt’s face for only a moment.

“You ready?” Kurt asks, gripping the base of his slicked cock with one hand, the other holding Blaine’s leg up.

Blaine nods. “Uh-huh.” He looks like he wants to say more but isn’t quite capable of it at the moment, like he’s halfway to some other place right now, someplace blissful and beautiful and perfect. Kurt feels a little surge of pride at knowing that it’s because of him.

He pushes in, goes slow, breathes out in little grunting gasps of air. Underneath him Blaine moans, arching up, and Kurt drops Blaine’s leg, lets Blaine wrap both around his waist as he falls forward, hands on either side of Blaine’s head.

He bottoms out with a final shove of his hips, a grunted-out, “ _Fuck_ , so tight, so perfect, Blaine. So perfect for me.”

Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt’s neck without a word, angles his hips up and rocks down onto Kurt’s cock. Usually he’s chatty during sex, likes to be vocal and breathe out encouragement, and Kurt would find this radio silence unnerving if it wasn’t for the obvious way Blaine’s enjoying himself, his breath snuffling against Kurt’s neck as he buries his face there, presses his heels into Kurt’s ass to get him moving.

Kurt sets up a steady pace that grows faster as he murmurs, almost nonstop, “You look so good for me, taking me. _Yeah—_ you’re so good, Blaine. Aren’t you? God, touch yourself, baby, c’mon. I’ve got you. You’re okay. Look at me, gorgeous, let me see those pretty eyes.”

The noise Blaine lets out is something closer to a sob, forehand scrunched up as he gets a hand between them, fists his cock and blinks open his eyes, dilated dark ringed with slivers of bright whiskey. The bones of his knuckles brush against Kurt’s belly on every thrust in; Blaine’s legs, trembling, fall wide as Kurt starts to fuck in harder, the sound of their skin going sharper and slicker with sweat.

Kurt watches Blaine as the heat grows in his belly, balls drawing up tight to his body, watches how Blaine meets every thrust, lower lip between his teeth until it loosens with a moan or a whimper. Kurt’s fingers dig into the sheets, a groan low in his throat as Blaine clenches around him on a slide back in, and he props his weight on one hand, then, shoos Blaine’s hand away and wraps it around his cock, saying, still looking into Blaine’s eyes, “Come for me, baby, come on. Come for me like a good boy, that’s it.”

Blaine bites his lip, arches up, and it’s only a few thrusts later that he’s coming with a gasping, keening moan in thick, slick streaks over Kurt’s hand and his own belly. He slumps down onto the bed, eyes closed now, as Kurt fucks forward with a shudder, presses his hips flush to Blaine’s ass and spills into the condom.

Kurt catches his breath, still reeling from the intensity of his orgasm. Blaine is boneless under him, still and with a semi-smile on his face. He’s breathing evenly, slowly, and Kurt almost thinks he’s asleep until Blaine blinks open his eyes and stares, slightly unfocused up at Kurt. He says, voice a little husked, “That was so much better than I ever fantasized.”

Kurt laughs, bends down and presses their lips together as he slides out with a slick, wet sound. Blaine’s hand pets tiredly, almost aimlessly, at Kurt’s hand, and Kurt strokes down Blaine’s face with his own, kisses the tip of his nose and calls him _good boy_ one more time, just to see the way Blaine reacts so easily, so visibly.

“Thank you,” Blaine murmurs, rolling over and pillowing his head on Kurt’s chest once Kurt’s laid back and they’re stretched out, naked and sweaty with come still on both of them, but Kurt doesn’t care, knows that Blaine doesn’t, either.

Blaine’s fingers trace featherlight, absent patterns on the slick skin on Kurt’s chest. His breath is cool on Kurt’s skin when he breathes out, speaks. “You know, for doing this, even though you didn’t have to.”

Kurt grabs Blaine’s hand, plays with his fingers and watches the way the light from the window halos behind them, falling through the cracks in golden bursts. “I want to be intimate with every part of you, no matter what that part is. I love you and I want you to be happy all the time.”

Blaine twists his neck, looks back and says, sliding his fingers more securely into Kurt’s, “I love you, too. So much.”

“So was I, you know, okay?”

The look Kurt receives in return is one of the best he’s ever seen Blaine make.

“You were—more than okay. You were amazing. Perfect. Everything I had ever wanted and more.”

Kurt squeezes their hands, feels that love and adoration and pride bubble up and nearly spill over inside him. He still isn’t sure how he got this lucky, but he knows that he’s never going to take it for granted. And he also knows that he’s never going to tell Blaine about the embarrassing research he’d done the day he’d discovered this. “Good.”


End file.
